Unmapped: The Heart Of The Jungle
by Jopeth23
Summary: A parody of the Uncharted series. Arnold, together with Gerald, goes on an expedition to find his parents and retrieve a mysterious artifact from the dense jungles of San Lorenzo. Along the way, they meet journalists Helga and Phoebe. Will they survive bloodthirsty terrorists, unkillable henchmen, and generic British villains? ON HOLD.
1. Prologue

**Hi there, readers! This fic has been under development for quite a while now, and with the help of one of my loyal reviewers, BlackRob88, I was able to develop this into a solid fic. I had always been an Uncharted series fan, and I thought Arnold would fit Nathan Drake's role, so I decided to give this fic a go. I hope you enjoy the prologue and watch out for the upcoming chapters. Don't forget to leave reviews! enjoy! ^^,**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold and Uncharted, and their characters, but I own this story.**

**Prologue**

Arnold gazed dumbly at the green glowing orb in front him. It was beckoning him, calling him with a silent voice that seem to speak directly into his head.

_"Oh child, if you had one wish, and only one wish, what would it be?"_

Arnold gave it a confused look. The orb was talking to him. But it isn't a normal voice that one would hear from someone talking, but it as if it was going straight into his head! The voice sounded like a cacophony of different voices coming from all directions.

_"One wish, child. Whatever it will be...but be warned as it would not come for free..."_

Arnold looked around him. Last time he recalled, a loud explosion rocked the temple after one of La Sombra's men fired an RPG rocket towards them and hit one of the temple's pillar that held the ancient structure from collapsing. The pillar quickly crumbled, and the temple was now following after it. Large portions of the stone ceiling fell unto the ground as the temple shock and started to collapse in itself. Now, it seems that everything around him have frozen. Helga was lying unconscious on the ground, her shoulder bleeding and bruised badly when a chunk of rock fell on her. Gerald was holding Phoebe's bloodied body, huddled close to her, as if trying to wake her up from her slumber. The temple was indeed in a collapse, but someone must have grabbed a universal remote control and hit PAUSE, as everything was in freeze frame, with exception of Arnold and the mysterious green glowing orb.

_"A wish, child. Choose wisely, child, for what you gain from the wish, you will lose in the price you will pay..."_

"A wish, huh?" he said. He held his hand forward to the orb and closed his eyes. With his whole mind and willpower, he expressed his wish mentally. He hoped this mysterious orb is not only a time-stopper, but a mind-reader as well. As he expressed his wish through his mind, all the events that led the four of them to the Temple of the Green Heart flashed and played back by itself...


	2. Double Cross

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold and its characters, and the Uncharted series to which this fic was heavily based on. **

**Double-Cross**

_"Among these temples there is one which far surpasses all the rest, whose grandeur of architectural details no human tongue is able to describe; for within its precincts, surrounded by a lofty wall, there is room enough for a town of five hundred families."_

- Hernando Cortes, Spanish conquistador, describing the grandeur of the Aztec temples.

Arnold looked around warily as they made their into Bebop's, the jazz bar where Rhonda and Curly agreed to meet to do the "exchange". The alley leading to the bar was dark, lit by few flickering streetlights illuminating it. Even the neon signboard of the jazz bar seemed to be on its last legs, with the letter P flickering now and then. On their way in, they were accosted by three of Curly's men. Two burly bald men and a fierce-looking redheaded woman stopped them at the door.

"Rhonda Lloyd?" the redhead asked.

"The one and only. Are you with Curly?"

The redhead did not answer. She motioned the two burly men to go to Arnold and Sid, who almost shrank back seeing these men almost twice their size closing in at them. The men then started groping around Arnold and Sid, searching for any concealed weapons. Arnold and Sid exchanged awkward glances, being not used to being groped by men, especially men of _this size._

The redhead then began groping around Rhonda's waist. She shrank back, trying to push away the redhead, but she was insistent.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" Rhonda blurted out.

"Curly's orders. You must be searched before letting you in," the redhead replied.

"Geez, is that creep that paranoid? It's not like we're gonna double-cross him or something," she said annoyingly as the redhead continued groping around her pants for any concealed guns or any weapons.

"Rhonda, let's just play along," Arnold said as the burly man searching him was taking an extra time groping around his waist (and he swore he felt him pinch his butt a bit). After a few seconds, the man then straightened up and turned to the redhead.

"He's clean."

"Same here," said the other burly man searching Sid. He then gave Sid a smack in the butt when he was done searching him. He then grinned and winked at Sid, sending shivers down his spine. This gotta be the creepiest thing that happpened to him, he thought.

"They're all clean," said the redhead who was done searching Rhonda. She then turned to Rhonda, "Come with me."

They looked at each other as they followed the redhead into the jazz bar. Sid looked around to make sure he's not within the earshot of the burly men. He leaned to Arnold.

"Boy howdy, that was really creepy. He smacked my ass, and even winked at me!" he whispered in his usual panicky voice.

"Tell me about it. Mine pinched my ass," Arnold whispered back.

"Man, Curly got really creepy dudes working for him."

"Knowing Curly, I wouldn't be surprised," Rhonda turned to them and whispered. She overheard their hushed conversation as they made their way into the bar.

The bar looks almost deserted, save for the fat barkeep who was wiping the beer mugs clean, and an old ragged customer who passed out on the bar, snoring loudly with a half-empty shotglass still in hand. The jazz band had just finished their set, and the nervous-looking young waitress turned on the jukebox to play classic blues tunes before going back to her post, where she nervously looked at Rhonda's gang as they made their way in. Either this was just a slow night for the bar, or Curly rented the whole place out for their "exchange".

"Follow me. He's waiting for you," she told them curtly, then headed to the part of the bar where the pool tables were. The three followed her with the two burly men trailing behind them. And there he was, Thaddeus "Curly" Gammelthorpe, their mentally unstable classmate who struck it rich few years after their graduation from college. Some say the way he struck it rich was "questionable", that he scammed his way to riches, dealt with shady underworld personalities, or sold his soul to the Devil himself. Whatever the reason behind his rise, it's no doubt that Curly has gained enough power and influence to stand on equal footing with the woman he always pined for, Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd.

Curly was sitting alone behind the pool table, wearing a fine gray suit. He stood up and beamed at the three.

"Welcome, Arnold, Sid, and-" he gave Rhonda an affectionate look. "Rhonda dearest." He reached for her hand to kiss it.

She pulled her hand away from him and gave him a scowl, "Let's cut down the chase and get to business, shall we? Did you bring it?"

"Rhonda, Rhonda, my love," Curly chuckled. "Ever so hasty. Wanting to jump straight into action without any foreplay. Where's the fun with that? I know you always like _foreplay_, right?" He grinned impishly at her.

"Stop it, you _freak!_" she snarled at him. Sid can hardly contain his laughter and was giggling by himself.

"Did you bring it or not? Be quick about it, 'coz if you don't have a half a brain to bring what I asked you to, then I'll gladly get out of this shitty joint than to waste my time with a creep like you and your cast of freaks."

Curly laughed, "Fine, my love. If you are such in a hurry. You're ever so droll, Rhonda. Ever so droll."

"_Ever so_? I thought Lila had an exclusive copyright for that expression?" Sid whispered to Arnold, then started snickering. Arnold snickered as well.

"Shirley, the box, if you may." The redhead lady promptly handed a small wooden box to Curly. He then placed the box on top of the pool table and opened it, taking out its contents. It's a bust of a female Egyptian deity, its eyes and serpent crown magnificently adorned with real gem stone and plated with real gold. It's facial features was delicately carved, finished with an unusual sheen that reflected the lights off its face.

"Behold, the Isis of Lepanne," Curly said as Arnold and Sid gaped on it, their mouths open with wonder.

"Boy howdy, she's a beauty, isn't she?" Sid said to Arnold.

"Yeah, a beauty indeed," Arnold agreed. No wonder Rhonda spared no dime in acquiring this piece of art. But something inside him was telling that there's something wrong with the statue. Something seems to be out of place. The feeling of unease seemed to fill him every second he gazed at the statue.

"So Rhonda, let me return the question. Did _you _bring it?" Curly smiled impishly at her.

"Sid," she called out, snapping Sid from his daze. He handed a suitcase to Rhonda. She then placed it on top of the pool table. She undid the suitcase lock and opened it, revealing bundles of hundred dollar bills neatly arranged. She turned it around, showing Curly the money.

"A hundred grand in exchange for the Goddess, as agreed."

Curly took one of the bundle and examined the bills closely. All of them seems real, non-sequenced. He grinned, satisfied with the transaction. He then took the suitcase and shut it. He reached out his hand to Rhonda.

"Well, it's been nice doing business with you, Rhonda. If I may take the liberty of inviting you a din-"

"WAIT!"

Everybody turned to Arnold, seemed to be unsettled with how the transaction went on.

"Hold it, Rhonda," he said, heading to the pool table and to the statue.

"Arnold"? she threw a questioning look at him. Arnold seemed to ignore her as he grabbed the statue, felt and rubbed its face, and sniffed his finger. He then looked under the base of the statue, in which he smiled and started chuckling to himself.

"Arnold, what's going on?" Rhonda asked him, throwing him a confused look.

"Rhonda, Curly is trying pull a fast one on us. The statue is a _fake_!"

Rhonda eyes widened, "WHAT?!" She turned to Curly, her eyes this time was burning with fury. She balled up her fists as she drew closer to Curly. "Why you little-?!"

"Hey, hey. Hold on, Rhonda. Let's not be rash here." He then turned to Arnold. "How dare you accuse me of trying to double-cross my love! Do you have an idea on how much I time and money spent trying to search and procure that specific piece of art?"

"Or rather, spent trying to produce a fake," Arnold countered, smiling smugly at Curly. "You did a poor job actually."

"Why you lying-?!" Curly seethed.

"First of all, the statue was covered with magnesium glaze, which explains its unusual sheen. You see, magnesium glaze wasn't invented and used until the 18th century, something that ancient Egyptians have _definitely _have no access to," Arnold explained.

"So? I took the liberty of restoring it and enhancing its beauty for my love here," Curly smiled at Rhonda, which she replied with a snarl. "The restorer might have used a magnesium-based glaze for all I care."

"Oh yeah, then how are you going to explain this?" Arnold grabbed the statue and shoved the bottom of the base a few inches from Curly's face. His smile disappeared and his face paled upon reading the inscription stamped under the base. Arnold then handed the statue to Rhonda, who then took a look at the inscription under its base.

"Made in China," Rhonda read the not-so-ancient inscription out loud. "Geez, I didn't know the Chinese used to worship Isis, do you, Arnold?"

Arnold shook his head, acknowledging Rhonda's sarcasm, "Nope, I didn't know that either. I should have paid more attention on my archaeology class."

"Curly, looks like you're busted now," Sid said, laughing heartily at Curly who was now pale and seething. "Now be a good sport and hand back the money. I'm sure Rhonda could call it quits if you do so."

Curly, now cornered, clutched the suitcase madly and dug inside his coat and...

_**CLICK!**_

...whipped out a handgun, pointing it to Rhonda and and the gang. The three were frozen right at their steps.

"Bravo, bravo! Good job in foiling my evil scheme. But I'm the one who got the gun here, and you aren't. Sucks to be you, I guess. So adios, and so long, suckers! Bwahahaha-uph!"

_**THUUUUD!**_

Curly's generic evil laughter was cut short when Arnold fiercely tackled him, slamming him against the wall, knocking him unconscious, and letting go both the gun and suitcase. He raised his fist to give Curly one solid punch to knock him out for good when one of Curly's burly goons grabbed him and slammed against the wall like a rag doll.

"Arnold!" Sid rushed towards him to help but an enormous fist was flying on his way. He quickly ducked to avoid the punch coming from the other burly bald guy. He quickly swung a punch, but the bald guy simply caught his fist, and quickly countered with punch to his belly, sending him reeling on the floor.

"Arnold! Sid!" Rhonda screamed, confused on which way to turn first in order to help either one of them. Shirley, Curly's redhead goon blocked her way from helping either Sid or Arnold.

"You'll be dealing with me, Ms. Lloyd..."

_**THWAAAAP!**_

Rhonda swung her right hand to land a hard and resounding slap on the redhead's cheek, sending her reeling back and leaned against one of the pool tables.

"Out of the way, bitch!" she screamed at her as she grabbed one of the cue sticks, and rushed to Arnold to free him from one of Curly's goons who got him pinned against the wall.

"YOOOOOWWWW!" Rhonda howled as she felt someone grabbed and pulled her hair back violently. It was Shirley, who now recovered a bit, one side of her cheek red and swollen. She then proceeded to slap Rhonda mercilessly. Rhonda raised her arms to shield her face, but still recoiled from the barrage of blows the redhead unleashed upon her.

Watching the fracas from a distance, the nervous-looking waitress stepped back in horror and accidentally hit the antiquated jukebox, causing to play by itself.

_"Hold that Tiger!_

_Hold that Tiger!_

_Where's the Tiger?_

_Where's the Tiger?"_

The classic jazz track continued to play as the melee went on. The burly man was beating Sid mercilessly as with Rhonda, who was crumpled on the floor, shielding herself from Shirley's blows. Arnold was squirming as the burly bald man held him up against the wall, his face red, struggling to breathe. His eyes caught the sight of a beer bottle on a cocktail table nearby. He reached out as hard as he could as the burly man choked him harder. He can feel his consciousness slipping away. He summoned last of his remaining strength to grab the bottle.

At last, he felt the cold glass on his finger. With a deft, swift move...

_**CRASSHHH!**_

...he slammed the beer bottle on to the bald guy's head so hard that the it broke upon impact. He let go Arnold, who fell on the floor coughing. Dazed and dizzy from the impact, the man swayed back and forth as he held his bloodied head, groaning unintelligibly. Regaining his senses, Arnold pulled back his fist and...

_**WHOOOP!**_

...connected a fierce right punch square on to the bald man's jaw, sending him crashing on to the pool tables, where he fell uncscious for the rest of the night.

Sid was still struggling against his bigger opponent. He fell hard on the floor when he gut punched in the gut again. As he fell, he felt a bottle lying around on the floor. He quickly grabbed it and swung it towards his opponent.

_**THOOOOOMM!**_

The bald man was still standing, as if the bottle has no effect on him, He just gave Sid a puzzled look. Sid quickly followed up with another swing. The man made no effort to block him and let the bottle land squarely on to his head.

_**THOOOOM!**_

Sid looked at the his opponent, confused. He then looked at the bottle he held and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Diet Yahoo! Soda. Less Sugar," he read out loud. He was holding a _plastic soda bottle_! He quickly threw it away and braced him self for the worst as his opponent loomed over him, laughing evilly. He winced, preparing to receive the worst of the blows when...

_**THOOOK!**_

...a billiard ball flew straight on to the bald guy's head and hit him right on his temple.

"OWWWWW! What the-" he growled as he faced the direction where the billiard ball came from, only to see another ball flying straight unto him and...

_**THOOOK!**_

...bounced off his forehead, knocking him unconscious. He fell on the floor with a dull thud. Sid looked to see who threw the billiard balls. It was Arnold, who was tossing a billiard ball up and catching it.

"Boy howdy, Arnold. I thought I was a goner there. I owe you one," Sid struggled up his feet, trying to force a smile.

"Don't mention it," Arnold smiled back, and then looked around. "Where's Rhonda?"

Rhonda was at the corner, still shielding herself from the redhead's blows. Shirley then grabbed Rhonda's dress and dragged her across the room, ripping it by its sleeve. Upon feeling her dress get ripped, Rhonda's eyes was lit with fury and...

_**BIFF!**_

...connected a swift punch square on to the redhead's jaw as she got up. She recoiled in pain, slightly dazed, and looked at Rhonda and...

_**THOOG!**_

...took another punch, this time, right on the nose. She fell on the floor, wincing in pain. Rhonda then stood over her, glowering down on her, her eyes burning with fury.

"That was Christian Dior, you bitch!" she screamed, and gave the redhead a sharp kick at her side. She groaned in pain and crumpled on the floor. Rhonda held her torn dress as she looked at Arnold and Sid, who was looking at her in amazement.

"Gosh Rhonda, you kicked ass," Arnold said, amazed by the brunette's ferocity.

"Dammit, she ripped my dress! It's Christian Dior, for the love of God! And I've worn it only _once!"_ Rhonda snarled as she gave Shirley another kick. Sid and Arnold snickered at the sight. Rhonda's alright. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she pointed towards the door.

"Curly! He's getting away!" she screamed. They turned to see Curly who was sneaking away with the suitcase and his gun in hand, almost halfway out of the door. He must have regained consciousness while they were in a brawl with his goons. Arnold rushed after him, and...

_**BANG! BANG!**_

...Curly fired two shots at him. Arnold instinctively took cover behind one of the tables, the shots hitting the antiquated jukebox behind him, effectively retiring it and putting it out of its misery. Arnold got out of his cover and rushed outside to run after Curly.

He saw Curly running towards a dark alley. He ran after him. Curly turned to see Arnold closing on to him. He flipped several garbage cans along the way to slow Arnold down. Arnold simply vaulted over the obstacles Curly made for him. It's a good thing he took up parkour recently. Who could ever tell it will be handy, especially at times like this.

Curly was almost out of breath, and Arnold was fast closing on to him. Running out of options, he quickly turned to aim his gun at Arnold. But he gawk in horror as he saw a Arnold in mid-air, about to crash on to him.

"GYAAAAAHHHH!" Arnold growled.

"AAAAAHHHHH!" Curly screamed.

_**CRASSSHHH!**_

Arnold used his whole weight to slam Curly on to the ground. Curly was groaning from pain. Arnold kept him pinned on the ground as he wrenched his gun from his hand and tossed it away. He then grinned at Curly.

"Game over, Curly," he said to him, who appeared to dazed from the impact. "Arnold used Body Slam! It's super effective! Curly is now paralyzed!" He then started snickering madly.

He then raised his arm, his fist clenched, and connected a swift punch square unto Curly's jaw, knocking him out for good.

"Arnold used Pound! Curly has fainted!" he continued as he got up on his feet, picked up the suitcase, and started walking back to Bebop's, where Rhonda and Sid were waiting for him.

***The camera pans to the sky, then the text appears "NAUGHTY KITTY GAMES presents".***

***The text disappears, and replaced by the title text "UNMAPPED: THE HEART OF THE JUNGLE"***

***"Nate's Theme" from the Uncharted series starts to play.***

**##############################################**

**I hope you liked this chapter. I enjoyed writing this chapter so much, albeit I have to rewrite the brawl scene multiple times. This chapter is based on the opening bar scene in Uncharted 3. Don't forget to leave reviews, I highly appreciate your reviews. ^^,**


	3. Are You Trying To Seduce Me, Mrs Pataki?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! and its characters and setting, Uncharted and its concept which I merely borrowed, and lyrics to the song "Glory Box" by Portishead.**

**A/N: Sorry for the delayed update. I have been preoccupied with all the personal non-romantic related stuff and updating my other fic, Hillwood Noir. I decided to take a break from writing Noir and update this one after so long. This chapter is a homage to the classic movie "The Graduate". Don't forget to leave reviews! ^^,**

**Are You Seducing Me, Mrs. Pataki?**

Arnold left Rhonda's office quite happy. Everything seems to be brighter outside. The morning sun seemed to smile at him, the flowers were brighter in their colors, and the children's laughter were never as beautiful as before.

Who wouldn't be happy, when one just got twenty grand just easy as that?

As a reward for foiling Curly's evil plan and recovering her money, Rhonda gave twenty thousand dollars to both Arnold and Sid. Forty grand was a small price to pay to compared to the humiliation of being duped by a con artist like Curly. After the incident at Bebop's, the police came and locked up Curly for good, much to Rhonda's satisfaction. In addition to their reward, Rhonda gave his two art gallery employees two months paid vacation. They then said their deepest thanks and goodbyes to Rhonda, and left the Wellington-Lloyd Art Gallery grinning like Cheshire Cats.

Sid never wasted time in making arrangements for a cruise to the Bahamas together with his fiancee, Nadine. Sid would always tell Arnold that he always wanted to go to the Bahamas with Nadine, and both were saving up for their dream cruise. Now, they could never be happier.

Arnold smiled as he thought of what will he do with twenty grand. Like Sid, he exactly knew what to do with the money. He will fulfill his lifelong dream. He will now put his anthropology and archaeology double major degree into use. For years, there is just one thing that he was aching to do. Ever since he discovered the existence of his parents' journal and the map of their possible location, his desire to fulfill this one dream consumed him.

To have a foursome with Lila Sawyer, Helga Pataki, and Taylor Swift.

(Dammit, stupid brain!)

To go to an expedition in San Lorenzo to find his parents. Nothing else mattered in his life except for that.

And his girlfriend, Helga Pataki, of course.

Twenty thousand dollars was more than enough for him to go to San Lorenzo and get supplies needed for his long trek deep into the unexplored tropical jungle. He then thought that he can't do it alone. So he asked his best friend, Gerald Johanssen, to tag along with him in this expedition, since that his "barely legal" business was a bit slow nowadays. Barely legal - which means his business, or he puts it as "entrepreneurial ventures", involves scalping baseball game tickets, selling smuggled cheap China-made iPods and electronics, or selling bootleg amateur porn. He had so many close-brush with the law, and no matter how many times Arnold and his girlfriend, Phoebe Heyerdahl, berates him into quitting his business, he just kept on coming back for more.

At least this expedition might help Gerald gain a new perspective in life.

Surprisingly, faster than you can say "You Belong With Me" by Taylor Swift, Gerald excitedly agreed to tag along and help out in the expedition. Problem solved.

Now, all he needed to do was to tell his girlfriend, Helga, about his plans, and if possible, have her tag along as well.

Helga. They haven't talked for a while. Ever since she became a journalist for National Geographic magazine, she would spend months abroad covering her story, only to come back for a few weeks before going abroad again to cover a new story. They barely see each other, let alone talk as the stories she usually covers are in remote countries with little or no means of communication.

Perhaps he can go to their place and surprise her. She's done covering her story in Nepal, so she must be home. He donned his motorcycle helmet, he hopped into his Honda CBR1000 Fireblade, slid the ignition key into the keyhole and turned it, and pressed the starter, bringing the monstrous engine of his superbike to life. He then up revved the engine and sped towards the Pataki residence.

He then parked his superbike on the driveway, took off his helmet, and headed to the door, pressing the doorbell button twice. After a few seconds, blonde woman in her late 40s with square-framed glasses opened the door and smiled at him.

"Good morning, Mrs. Pataki," he smiled and greeted her. "Is Helga home?"

"Oh, you must be Helga's boyfriend," she said in her usual lethargic voice. "Uh, what's your name again? Arthur?"

"Arnold, ma'am."

"Oh yeah, Arnold! I remember you. You're that little football-headed boy who Helga was crazy about since she was little."

"Uh, yeah, I guess so, ma'am, hehe," he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh, I see," Miriam nodded. "Oh goodness, how rude of me not to invite you in. Come in, Arnold." She then held the door open for him, smiling.

"Thanks, Mrs. Pataki." Arnold then went in. Miriam led him to their living room. Inside, Arnold looked around, checking their family portrait that hung at the middle of the room.

"Make youself at home, Arnold," Miriam said as she disappeared behind the counter of their mini-bar. At the corner of the living room was a mini-bar, where Miriam headed right away. Arnold made himself comfortable on the leather couch, putting his motorcycle helmet on the coffee table.

"What do you drink, Arnold?" she asked as she got two glasses behind the counter.

"Oh, Mrs. Pataki, I'm not really drinking. Besides, I'm driving," he refused politely.

"Call me _Miriam,"_ she said. "So what will you be having? Bourbon? Scotch? Whiskey? Rum?"

"Mrs. Pat-, I mean, I don't really drink, _Miriam. _And I'm on a motorcycle," he sheepishly said.

Miriam looked darkly at him, breaking a sly smile, "_I insist, Arnold._"

Arnold gulped, and smiled awkwardly, "Ummm...Jack Daniel's on the rocks?"

After a few minutes, Miriam returned with their drinks, handing a glass to Arnold. She sat on a sofa right in front of Arnold, and crossed her legs.

Arnold gulped hard as Miriam gazed at him, smiling coyly as she sipped her drink. At 50s, her beauty still showed. She played idly with the strands of her shoulder-length straight blonde hair, fixing her half-lidded gaze to Arnold with her clear blue eyes. Although age was catching up with her, she undoubtedly still beautiful. Arnold now knew where Olga and Helga got most of their genes from. She teasingly adjusted the straps of her sundress, and then gazed at him half-liddedly. The word "MILF" and "cougar" suddenly popped into his head. Stupid brain, always inserting dirty thoughts at the most inappropriate moments.

"So, Miriam, is Helga home?" Arnold asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Helga? Oh, she just left yesterday, actually. She was assigned in...uhmm, what that country again? It's somewhere in Central America...San Andreas? San Lopez?"

Arnold's eyes widened, "San Lorenzo?!"

"Oh yeah, San Lorenzo! She was assigned by National Geographic to cover a story. She's with her Asian friend. She's her photographer, I think. Her name was...ummm...Penelope?" she scratched her head, trying to recall the name.

"Phoebe?! Phoebe Heyerdahl?!" he looked at her in desbelief.

"Oh yeah, Phoebe. Yeah, they left a few days ago."

"Oh," Arnold said, disappointed. Once more, he missed the opportunity to see Helga. But deep inside, he felt happy, and a bit excited, to know that Helga was in San Lorenzo. Perhaps they could meet up there, and join him in his search for his parents. He's sure Helga would never say no to a little adventure.

"Umm, do you have Helga's number, Miriam?" Arnold then asked.

"Oh, I'm afraid Helga left no numbers for us to call. But that's normal. She usually calls us through Skype whenever she gets the chance."

"Oh," Arnold said, dejected. He then took his helmet and stood up. "Well, I guess I'll be leaving now, Miriam. Thanks for the-"

"Sit down, Arnold. Finish your drink," Miriam said in a sultry voice.

"But-"

"No buts. It's an invitation. It's _rude _to turn down an invitation, _especially mine_," she said sternly, then flashed a coy smile at him after giving her a wink.

"Well, I could definitely use _a drink,"_ Arnold gulped hard, then took a two gulps from his glass.

"My oh my, it's too quiet in here. Wanna see what's on TV, Arnold-dear?" she asked him.

"Uhmm, sure, Mrs. Pata-, I mean, _Miriam_ _," _Arnold stammered.

She just smiled impishly as she took the remote control and and pushed a button, bringing the 60-inch TV to life. It's currently tuned in to a news network.

_"In our news, tensions rise in San Lorenzo as the rebel forces under General La Sombra, the army chief-of-staff and the leader of the coup d'etat that started early this year, closes in to the capital city San Pedro Norte. President Juan Villaflores assured that everything is under control, and that the rebel forces will be repelled soon. But General La Sombra made an announcement that San Pedro Norte will be in their hands in less than a month..."_

_"I hope Helga's safe. And Mom and Dad as well..."_ he thought upon seeing the news.

"Boring news," Miriam slurred as she pressed the remote control, changing the channel to a business news network.

_"In other news, British industrialist Rex Smythe-Higgins III, the heir to the Smythe-Higgins industrial conglomerate, recently announced his plans to acquire the Future Tech Industries and include it to his growing network of companies. It can be recalled that FTi stocks crashed after the its former CEO Max Scheck was caught in the infamous neighborhood scandal, reducing FTi into a shell company. With this new acquisition, Smythe-Higgins announced his intention to expand his business to Central America..._

Miriam yawned, "More boring news." She then pressed the remote control, switching the TV to a daytime talk show.

_"Today here in our show, we have our guest Hilda, who suspects that his boyfriend Arnie might be cheating on her...WITH HER OWN MOTHER, MARIANNE!" _Sound of the audience shouting "Ooooh!" _"Let's welcome, Hilda..."_

"I'm not a fan of Tori Dovich and his talk show," Miriam declared before changing the channel once more. Another daytime talk show, but this time, the two female blonde guests were having a slap-fest, screaming expletives, hitting each other as burly bouncers try to pull them apart from one another before they tear each other apart with their bare hands, while the audience cheered them, encouraging them to hit each other more.

_"You *bleep!* *bleep!* *bleep!* woman! How could you do this to me! You were my mother! You *bleep!*! You stole my boyfriend! How could you sleep with my boyfriend?! You're a *bleep!*"_

Arnold can't help but to stare dumbly at the TV screen as the younger blonde and her "mother" continued trading blows and expletives being bleeped out on national TV. The gods of irony must be having a field day today, he thought. He tugged his collar a bit, feeling uncomfortably warm.

"Urgh, I hate the _Terry Stinger Show. _All they do is to beat the crap out of each other on national TV. I'm wondering at times whether the whole thing's staged or not."

Arnold chuckled awkwardly at Miriam's commentary before she switched the channel to a music channel. A classic 90s trip-hop music video was currently playing.

"Ah yes, that's more I like it," Miriam grinned, putting the remote down, leaning back on the sofa, propping her arm on it as she sippped her rum cola. She gazed half-liddedly at Arnold, flashing an mischevous smile every now and then, which made the poor blond boy uneasy. There's no denying the Arnold had grown into a fine man. Standing at 5'10", well-toned body, tanned skin, cool verdant eyes, dirty blond hair, and an amiable personality to boot. No wonder Helga went gaga for this boy, Miriam mused. Unlike Bob...

Miriam's not half-bad either. Even at her age, she's still _attractive_, Arnold thought. The opening bars of the music began playing from the TV.

_"I'm so tired of playing_

_Playing with this bow and arrow_

_Gonna give my heart away_

_Leave it to the other girls to play_

_For I've been a temptress for so long..."_

"So Arnold, what do you do?" Miriam asked.

"Umm, I work at the Wellington-Lloyd Art Gallery. You know, the one down Eastwood Avenue," Arnold replied, before taking a sip from his glass.

"I see," she nodded as she playfully twirled her blonde hair with her finger.

Miriam gave Arnold a sultry gaze, "Arnold."

"Yes, Mrs. Pat-, I mean, Miriam?" he replied, stuttering a bit. He was feeling a bit of buzz rising up up to his head.

"May I ask you a question?"

Arnold nodded.

"What do you think of me?"

"What do you mean?" he asked back.

"You and Helga had been together had been together for a while now, and she must have told you stories about me, so you must have formed an opinion of me," she said, taking another sip of her rum coke.

"Well, I always thought you were, ummm...a nice person," Arnold said before taking in a gulpful of his whiskey.

"Did you know I was an alcoholic?"

Arnold gulped hard, enough to be heard by Miriam, "What?"

"Did you _know_ that?" she said, before smiling impishly at him.

Arnold looked at her awkardly, not having a slightest idea on how to answer her question. He was sweating bullets. He had watched _enough porn_ to know _where this was going. _

_"Give me a reason to love you_

_Give me a reason to be...a woman_

_I just wanna be a woman..."_

He downed the contents of his glass in a single gulp, and then he then abruptly stood up, placing his glass on the coffee table.

"Look...I think I should be going..."

"Sit down, Arnold." Miriam said sternly. She's obviously not herself at that moment.

"Mrs. Pataki, if you don't mind me saying so, this conversation is getting a _little strange..."_

Miriam just coyly gazed at Arnold.

"Now, I'm sure Mr. Pataki will be here any minute now..."

"No," Miriam curtly interrupted.

"What?" Arnold looked at her incredulously.

"My husband will be back quite late. He should be gone for _several hours_," she said in her usual lethargic, but this time, _sultry_ voice.

Arnold looked at her in disbelief. He turned his back at her, walking aimlessly around the living room, running his fingers into his dirty blond hair.

"Oh my God..." he sighed exasperatedly.

"Pardon?" Miriam raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh no, Mrs. Pataki. Oh no.." he said, shaking his head, walking abck and forth across the room.

"What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Pataki, you didn't...I mean, you didn't expect..." Arnold stammered.

"What?" Miriam looked at the poor confused blond man, smirking, taking pleasure from his confusion and his inner clash of morals.

"I mean you didn't really think I'll do something like that, hehe," Arnold laughed nervously.

"Like what?"

"What do you think?" Arnold looked at her darkly.

"Well, I don't know," Miriam replied, resting her one foot on to the coffee table, giving Arnold a clear upskirt view of her white lacy underwear.

_"Achtung! Panty alert! Panty alert!"_ a small voice inside Arnold 's head screamed. His eyes almost popped out of its sockets when he got clear glimpse of Miriam's, ehem, package.

"For God's sake, Mrs. Pataki..." trying to avert his gaze from Miriam. She began giggling, taking ill pleasure from Arnold's confusion.

"Here we are, you got me into your house, you gave me a drink, you...put on music, now you start opening up your personal life to me, and tell me your husband won't be home for hours?"

"So?" Miriam asked.

"Mrs. Pataki, you're trying to _seduce me..."_ Arnold declared. Miriam just laughed at him shrilly.

"_Aren't you_?" Arnold followed through.

Miriam calmed herself down from laughing, and crossed her legs, "Well, no, I haven't thought of it. I feel very flattered."

"Mrs. Pataki, will you forgive me for what I just said?" Arnold asked apologetically.

"It's alright-" she tried to assure the confused man.

"It's not alright. It's the worst thing thing I have ever said to anyone..."

"Sit down."

He sat back on his couch across Miriam and fidgeted while seated, "Please forgive me because I like you. Not like you _like you_, but I think you're as beautiful and lovely as your daughters are..."

"It's alright. Here, have some more to drink," Miriam poured more whiskey on to Arnold's glass.

"Mrs. Pataki, it makes me sick that I said that to you..." he said ruefullly.

"Well, forget it right now and finish your drink."

"What is wrong with me?" he continued ruefully, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"Would you like to see Helga's portrait?" Miriam said on a tangent.

Arnold looked at her, puzzled by the suddent shift in the conversation.

"Her portrait?"

"Yes."

"No."

"We got it done last Christmas. Would you like to see it?" Miriam asked him.

"Very much," Arnold replied. Finally, something to get him out of this awkward situation.

Miriam stood up and led Arnold upstairs, "It's here in Helga's room."

She then opened her room and turned on the lights. Arnold looked around Helga's room. Almost everything was covered in pink: the sheets, curtains, wallpaper, evern her dresser and closet is painted pink. There it was, in the middle of the room hung Helga's portrait, executed on oil on canvas. She's one lovely goddess, she thought. She was looking straight to his eyes, her shimmering blue orbs full of life, smiling slightly, her wavy blonde hair framed her lovely face. She got her mother's eyes, and unfortunately, her father's temperament. Although she somewwhat mellowed down lately, she's still notorious for her occassional outbursts. Arnold smiled at the memory of her outbursts that he has to endure. Oh how he missed Helga.

Arnold was lost in gazing at Helga's portrait that he didn't notice Miriam had snuck behind him and shut the door.

"Helga is certainly an attractive girl, isn't she," he remarked, still gazing at the portrait.

"Mhmm," she replied, sliding the door chain close. She then stealthily slid her hand on to the door knob, and pressed the lock close. The click made Arnold turn around, only to see Miriam barring the only way out of this room.

"M-Mrs. Pataki...?"

"Arnold.." she purred as she pushed the straps of her sundress over her shoulders...and the next thing Arnold knew was Miriam was standing before him, wearing nothing but her bra and panty. His jaws would have _literally_ dropped on the floor at that time. Arnold's eyes would have literally popped out of its sockets at that moment.

_"Holy Lord, Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Krishna, Flying Spaghetti Monster...!"_

"Beeewwwwbs..." he whimpered incoherently as he literally froze on the spot where he stood at the sight of _almost naked_ Miriam.

"Don't be nervous," Miriam tried to reassure the already-panicky Arnold.

"Let me out...get away from that door..." he squeaked nervously.

"I want to say something first," Miriam looked at him dead in the eye.

"Jesus Christ..."

"Arnold, I want you to know that I'm very much available to you, and if you won't sleep with me this time..."

"Oh my Christ..." he wailed.

"...I want you to know that you can call me up anytime you want and we'll make some kind of an arrangement..."

"God..." he groaned nervously.

"Did you understand what I just said?"

"Yes, yes, let me out..." Arnold nodded nervously.

"Coz I found you very attractive, and I would like to know what is it _in you_ that made Helga go gaga over you..." she then smiled at him naughtily.

"Yes, yes, let me out now..." Arnold kept nodding nervously. He turned his head to the window when he heard a sound of a car pullling up the driveway. An image of a very angry man he feared most flashed on his head.

_Big Bob!_

"Oh Jesus! That's him!" he almost screamed as he forcibly shoved Miriam out of the way and unlocked the door. He panicked when the door refused to open, caught by the door chain.

"Oh shit, no!" he even panicked more when he could not even undo the door chain. After some futile, clumsy attempts , he was able to unlatch the door chain, and bolted downstairs to the living room where he swiped his helmet, went for the door, and bolted to his superbike faster than a greased lightning.

There he realized that the car he heard pulling up into the driveway was their neighbor's, _not Bob Pataki's_. He let out a big sigh of relief. He looked back at the Pataki residence. No, there's _no way_ he's gonna get back in there. Lesson learned: never go to the Pataki Residence, unless you are 100% sure that _Helga is in there_.

He never imagined Miriam would be such, ehem, a _seductress_. Who could blame her? With a blowhard husband such as Big Bob and an uneventful life as a plain housewife, he somewhat understood why she made a move on him. He wondered if she ever hit on somebody else other than Arnold. Poor Bob, being cuckolded by his wife. He had it coming though.

Now is not the time with the Pataki's domestic troubles, he thought. He needs make preparations for their upcoming trip to San Lorenzo. With the political situation there deteriorating fast, it would be a matter of time before the government issues a travel ban to that country. They need to go there before things gets any worse.

_"Phoebe, Helga, Mom, Dad. Be safe for me, please,"_ he prayed silently, before he donned his helmet, slid and turned the ignition key, and gunned the monstrous engine of his superbike back to life. He then sped away from the Pataki Residence.

Unknown to him, he was being watched the whole time. Two men were in their car, watching Arnold from a distance. The blond, burly man on the driver's seat took out his cellphone and dialled a number. After a few rings, a male voice with a clear British accent answered.

"Yes, Wolfgang, what is it?" the British guy on the other end of the line said..

"Boss, he's on the move. He must be on his way to get tickets or something," the blond, burly man reported.

"Good. Keep an eye on him. Report his movements every half an hour. Stay hidden. And, at all costs, _do not_ harm him in any way. He's our only key to getting the _Corazon,_" the British guy sternly instructed.

"Yes, Boss. Understood," he replied, then pressed the END button on his phone. He started the engine, and drove to the same direction where Arnold sped away to.

**A/N: The dialogue between Arnold and Miriam was lifted directly from the scene in the classic movie "The Graduate" where Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft) was trying to seduce Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman). Sorry if this chapter was longer than necessary. I guess I got carried away with the "seduction scene". Don't worry, the next chapter will be action-packed, with no dilly-dallying or whatsoever. We will be jumping straight right into the heat of the action. So r&r, people. ^^,**


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